


(baby you're like) lightning in a bottle

by tripletriple



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 2018 Winter Olympics, Alcohol, Angst, Arguing, Banter, Blow Jobs, Cute, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Happy Ending, Introspection, M/M, Making Out, Making Up, Miscommunication, Relationship Negotiation, Rough Sex, Serious Talks(TM), Spanking, and don't worry it gets a bit kinky too, make-up sex, oh yeah they're engaged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-31 15:24:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13977978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tripletriple/pseuds/tripletriple
Summary: Yuzuru is prone to being selfish. Javier is inching closer to finding home.“It’s funny,” Javier says, “I’ve never fucked you in an ice arena. Not even a locker room or something.”“That’s because Brian would kill us."





	(baby you're like) lightning in a bottle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [121215_04012016](https://archiveofourown.org/users/121215_04012016/gifts).



> this is trashy but also very sweet and soft? my specialty.
> 
> kurt browning said during the olympics that elizabet tursynbayeva had captured "lightning in a [bottle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RYr96YYEaZY)." mood.

He flies home - home-home, to Spain - in the middle of the night. Yuzuru murmurs in his sleep, swats Javier’s kiss from his cheek as if it’s a stray hair tickling him. Javier shuts the door as quietly as possible, gets in a cab with his luggage, responsibly packed before going to Yuzuru’s room the night before, and texts Tracy once he’s safely boarded. He’s got a direct flight, so he settles in with his hood up and his headphones on and shuts out the world. He’s never liked rising early though he’s gotten used to it over the years, and it'll all be worth it when he gets home.

His dad meets him at arrivals and together they manage to get through the fanfare, and Javier ducks into the backseat of the old Alfa Romeo, grateful for the tinted windows. “Ok,  _ chico?” _ His father asks, looking back at him before he starts the car.

“Just glad to be home,” Javier answers, smiling. He’ll never stop being  _ kid _ to his family, and it’s comforting to hear, comforting to be in the same car they drove back and forth to the rink when he was ten. Already, he can feel himself relaxing in a way he hasn’t done in months - he can’t wait to see Laura and his childhood bedroom, smell the candles his mom lights in the living room.

“You did good,” Antonio says, turning back to the dashboard. “Couldn’t be more proud of you. Sleep, traffic was bad. Might take a bit to get home.”

Javier doesn’t sleep. It’s one of those rare rainy days Madrid gets in February, and he lies across the backseat of the car and watches the drizzle patter slowly down the windows and he thinks. Everyone in Korea is probably up and showered now, having breakfast with friends. Sure enough, a few picture messages from Misha come through, but he doesn’t have the energy to field them, so he lets them lie. He does reply to Tracy -  _ All landed? Yes, Mom - _ and then locks his phone, letting it slide from the kangaroo pocket of his sweatshirt onto the floor and not bothering to pick it up.

It’s only afternoon but his mom and aunt have a feast waiting for him, all his favorite food and a million desserts lined up on the kitchen counter. Laura, who seems to have had at least two of her own notoriously strong cocktails already, pulls him into a tight hug and doesn’t let go until Javier tells her that she’s the best sister ever. He accepts the drink she makes him, and the chocolate cake handed to him, and settles in the living room with the family chattering and laughing around him - immediate normalcy. At some point his mother takes his empty plate and he replaces it in his lap with a throw blanket, pulling it up over his head and shutting his eyes.

“Falling asleep already?” One of his younger cousins chides.

Javier lowers the blanket only to his cheekbones, so he can look her in the eye. “I won an Olympic medal yesterday and woke up at midnight, Vivi,” he says, though he regrets it immediately, because Laura shrieks.

“I can’t believe we forgot! Show us the medal!” She pops up from her armchair and runs out the front door to the car, coming back hauling Javier’s beat-up carry-on behind her. “Open it, Javi!” she demands, letting the suitcase flop heavily onto the floor just before him.

Javier narrows his eyes at her, annoyed. “You know, I may be nearly retired, but my skates are still worth a lot of money,” he points out, “you don’t need to act like airline baggage handlers with my stuff.”

“I’m only concerned about the bronze in there,” Laura argues. She tucks her legs up under her in the armchair and holds her drink with both hands. “Bronze is really hard, right? As long as it holds up, I’m good.”

Javier rolls his eyes and bends down to unlock his luggage. He slips the medal out of its velvet pouch and holds it up to the light, catching Laura’s eye just beyond.

“Oh, put it on, already! Come on!” Viviana exclaims.

It doesn’t feel quite the same putting it on himself as it did standing on the podium, but Javier has to admit that the oohs and ahhs of his family are nearly as good as applause from a crowd. He refuses to stand up in the middle of the living room and sing the national anthem, as his father suggests, though. Instead he just sits on the sofa and slides his thumb and forefinger back and forth along the flat sides of the medal, memorizing the grooves, as a football match blares on the tv and his sister and cousins yap on about politics. Buzzes of sound at low frequencies, familiar voices, like a lullaby, as he sinks gradually deeper into the couch, feeling his eyelids grow heavy.

 

*

 

He wakes to the insistent buzz of his phone in his pocket, and when he checks it, he realizes it’s been over a day since he last talked to Yuzuru. Feeling a little guilty, he puts the phone to his ear with a yawn.

“Hi, darling,” he says, blinking his eyes open and adjusting to the empty living room’s high ceilings, early-morning light flooding in through the large east-facing windows. “Sorry, I’ve been asleep for…” he puts the phone on speaker as he checks the time and then rests it on his chest, “literally thirteen hours.”

“It’s ok!” Yuzuru says brightly. “But did you see? Gala practice is on Thursday.”

“Oh…” Javier says, accidentally letting the surprise slip into his voice. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t thought far enough ahead to even conceptualize the gala exhibition, but he feels the full force of the pressure of it right now and it’s not the good, excited kind of pressure - it’s the dread, the anxiety, the unwillingness to pick up and leave now he’s just gotten home.

“Javi?” Yuzuru says, audibly cautious even through the tinny quality of the speakerphone. “When do you fly back?”

Javier takes a deep breath. Disappointing Yuzuru has never been easy. In fact, it ranks high on his list of least favorite things to do.

“I don’t think I’m flying back,  _ querido,”  _ he says gently, a breath into the speaker of his phone.

“What do you mean?” Yuzuru says, and his voice is quiet. So is the background, Javier realizes, devoid of all ambient noise. Yuzuru must have slipped away to his room for some privacy, even among all the excitement. Javier wants to crawl into a cocoon of guilt, maybe let the couch swallow him up whole.

“You have to skate the gala, Javi, it’s your last Olympics!” There’s a long pause, and then Yuzuru tries again. “Don’t leave me all alone,” he whines.

“You’re not alone,” he says, “you have Shoma and Misha and Evgenia and literally everybody else there with you. Yuzuru, please don’t be dramatic this early in the morning. I’m tired.”

“I’m not being fucking  _ dramatic, _ Javier,” Yuzuru snaps, and Javier wants to kill whoever taught him to swear so effectively - but, come to think of it, it was probably Brian. “You know how hard this past months was for me. I am hurt and I still won, fair and square, and I want to celebrate with my - with my  _ fiance  _ here with me.”

“I’m not debating how much you deserved to win.” Javier locks his tongue behind his upper row of teeth in frustration. “I’m  _ exhausted, _ Yuzu,” he says tightly. “I just got home and I haven’t been home in months.”

“You say two days ago, home is with me,” Yuzuru says, so soft and sad that Javier has to shut his eyes against the piercing hurt of it, and by the time he’s opened them, with half a response ready, the line is dead.

 

*

 

Three days later he boards another 14-hour flight, this time with Laura in the seat next to him and armed with a giant, syrup-laden coffee drink. This time he doesn’t really sleep until the last few hours, just sits and listens to Laura tell him about her studies and her boyfriend and the latest extended-family drama. He hasn’t spoken to Yuzuru since their ill-fated phone call - he’s texted, but Yuzuru hasn’t texted back.

He’s been all over Instagram, though, so he knows he’s not dead or anything. Javier thinks social media is some kind of new-age relationship curse. Yuzuru has a private Instagram, of course, that he rarely updates and which has been characteristically silent during this competition; but Misha and Ondrej have been keeping Javier, and the whole world, abreast of the group’s on- and off-ice shenanigans. The junk food consumed, the gossip from ISU officials, the wardrobe malfunctions and, of course, the poses struck during practices. Javier knows Yuzuru’s personality - he knows how much he thrives on attention, praise, all eyes on him. It may just be the gold medal, and maybe Javier is imagining it, but at least through the window of the internet, which Javier only begrudgingly checks, anyway, he really seems to be laying it on thick, practicing lifts with Ondrej, and hanging off of Eric Radford, whom Javier does not really know except through the stories about him that Luis has told, which quite frankly put the fear of God in him. He knows that Yuzuru would never cheat on him. He also knows how easy he is to get a rise out of, and how much Yuzuru enjoys doing so.

He still falls for it every time.

So, he booked a room in a hotel in Gangneung. (And one for Laura, who saw him looking up flights and insisted he arrange her stay as well. He lied when he said there were no adjacent rooms, but he thinks, as they part ways in the lobby, that she says nothing more out of gratitude than total ignorance.)

Yuzuru isn’t speaking to him, and he’s more than a bit miffed at how petty he can be. He doesn’t even bother, texts Misha after showering.

 

_ back in korea and starving _

_ dinner plans? _

 

The little dots indicating that Misha’s typing take no time at all to appear. Misha is never very far from his phone. Javier’s pretty sure he’s one of the last people under the age of 50 with an actual ringtone.

 

_ We’ve got the party room! _

 

He sends a photo, of his view. Yuzuru is right across from him, seated between Evgenia’s mop of hair and a tray of shot glasses. There are white curtains drawn behind them, sort of sectioning off their table from the rest of the place. Javier pulls up the map to the address on his phone, bundles up in his coat, and treks the short walk to the restaurant, which is thankfully dark and loud, though his friends’ multilingual, almost certainly rowdy table has no doubt drawn some attention from other diners. He tries to be inconspicuous as he pulls back the curtain and slips through, but Misha and Boyang immediately start cheering.

He rolls his eyes, as Evgenia pops up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Sweet Javi! We missed you!” she says, bright-eyed and alert. Javier is glad to see they haven’t been funneling the children alcohol. She gives him her seat without being asked, moving to rest her head on Shoma’s shoulder and watch him play games on his phone.

He sits cross-legged on the floor pillow next to Yuzuru’s just as his fiance turns to blink owlishly at him. “Baby,” Yuzuru says dreamily, dopey smile on his face as realization dawns over him. He is emanating a drunken warmth, and cuddles insistently into Javier before he even has time to settle in. He accepts the shot Valentina offers him from over Yuzuru’s lap with a sheepish smile. He’s still a little shy about PDA, even when they’re among friends, but the burn of the alcohol helps him relax a little.

They talk and laugh and eat so much rice and barbecue that Javier starts to think he’ll never have to eat again. Evgenia cries a little, and Shoma looks bewildered. Yuzuru watches, rapt, as Ondrej performs a magic trick with a deck of cards given to him by the server, fluttering his eyelashes. He seems to like how theatrical the Italians are. Javier takes note of this as he takes a third shot, resolving to have it be his last. He wants to ride the pleasant buzz he’s got, but not take it any further. Yuzuru is starting to look a little worse for wear, rubbing his eyes sleepily and losing focus. He doesn’t want to have to carry him out, so he starts to say some goodbyes, gradually pulling Yuzuru away from the table.

The night air is brisk and frigid, and it seems to wake Yuzu up as they walk a little. He grabs Javier’s hand and holds it tight, and Javier notices he doesn’t ask where they’re going - in fact, neither of them say a word, until Yuzuru’s sitting on the edge of Javier’s hotel bed, watching Javier take off his jeans. “You came,” he points out then, quietly, a sleepy little smile on his face, and when Javier looks over to regard him he’s swaying back and forth happily, still a little drunk. Javier really  _ resents _ how beautiful he is when he isn’t paying attention, when unguarded, and especially when Javier is trying his hardest to be angry with him.

He sighs. “Yes,  _ querido, _ I did,” he says, as he stands in front of Yuzu and helps him disentangle the sweater from his arms. Yuzuru hums contentedly as he settles back against the well-fluffed pillows, and he practically purrs when Javier pulls the blankets over them both, hugging Yuzuru close to him.

There’s a long while where they lapse back into silence, Yuzuru wiggling around to get comfy and ending up with his head on Javier’s chest. “Sorry,” he says after a few more minutes, voice husky with sleep. “‘m sorry, Javi.”

Javier kisses the crown of his head. “We’ll talk about it later,” he promises.

 

*

 

The thing is, there really isn’t much time to talk about it. In between practices and meeting the demands of the press, they have very little time away from the prying lenses of cameras. Gala practice is fun, of course - basically an hour of fucking around, followed by fifteen minutes of group instruction for the finale. As exhausted as he is, Javier finds himself at ease on the ice - and Laura comes along, reads a fashion magazine rinkside while she keeps an eye on the closed practice and snaps pictures to send to their mom. It’s just like home, but… nothing like it at all. He thinks of letting all of this go, and ends up feeling a little melancholy by the end of the session. Yuzuru has left him alone, mostly; Javier thinks he can read it off him, and as they unlace their skates, he confirms it, with a cautious question.

“Wanna get lunch?” Yuzuru says, with a mask of casualty, but Javier can hear the hope laced tight between the words. “We have afternoon to ourselves. Oh, hi Laura.”

Laura leans down to give Yuzuru a hug, and Javier smiles. “Laura, Yuzu and I are going out for lunch. Do you want to come?”

He doesn’t miss the grateful look Yuzuru gives him, the relieved sigh into his neck when they find themselves in a quiet corner with a moment to embrace as they wait for the shuttle back to the Village. “I really missed you,” Yuzuru says, “feel so guilty for... for guilting you!” He groans, scrubbing a hand down his face in frustration. “I don’t know why I always do this.”

_ Because you don’t know how to deal with your emotions,  _ Javier thinks. “Because you’re spoiled,” he says instead, giving Yuzuru a sympathetic smile. “It’s ok. You’re the youngest.” He pats his butt sympathetically, and Yuzuru gives him a look.

“So are you!” he scoffs, shoving at Javier’s shoulder. Javier laughs, reaching after him as he runs off toward the door to smack his ass again, harder this time.

He catches Yuzuru around the waist before he can get too far. “Yeah, but I learned how not to be a brat, somehow,” he points out, holding tight with an arm barred around him as Yuzuru giggles and tries in vain to get away. He digs the fingers of his left hand into his side to tickle him and blows a raspberry on the back of his neck, which makes Yuzuru twitch violently and thrash hard.

“You’re - an idiot -” Yuzuru gasps between hiccuping laughs. Javier always forgets how strong he is; it doesn’t take long for them to end up face to face, though Javier fights for the upper hand by tickling him even more viciously.

“You’re gonna give him an asthma attack,” Laura says, coming around the corner, and Javier does stop, giving Yuzuru the perfect opening to slap his upper arm again,  _ hard. _ He grabs it with his other hand and gapes at him, offended.

“You two always gang up on me,” he says dejectedly.

“What do you expect, little brother?” Laura says, pinching both of his cheeks. “You’re easy to manipulate.”

Javier slings his arm around Yuzuru’s waist and pulls him into his side as they walk out. “Make some time for me tomorrow morning,” he says, rubbing softly at his hip. Yuzuru just hums, probably distracted by the prospect of food.

 

*

 

When he wakes up the next morning Yuzuru isn’t there. He calls him, but he doesn’t answer, and for a short time Javier gets  _ angry,  _ reasoning out that the only thing Yuzuru could be doing is avoiding him. He takes a hot shower rather than flying into a Spanish rage, and when he gets out he realizes that Yuzuru is frankly too self-absorbed to be actively avoiding him; more likely, he needed time to think, to work out whatever anxieties are floating around in his head. In realizing this, Javier also realizes he knows exactly where to find him.

It’s only 5:30 am, so the shuttles aren’t running. Javier walks the short distance to the practice arena, greets the sleepy-looking registration volunteer sympathetically, and watches the ice from the windows for a moment. Yuzuru has the rink to himself and is running steps, nothing in particular, vaguely Chopin, improvising a bunch of sweeping arm movements and quick choctaws. Javi could see him choreographing later, he really could. He’s got this innate musicality that Javier still struggles with; he sometimes thinks he’s teetering on the edge of it, when he really connects with some piece he’s skating, but Yuzuru has a way of feeling anything he’s given instantly. Yuzuru doesn’t even need a backdrop to be musical; the way he moves is music. Javier often wonders why he didn’t pursue dance, and then he sees Yuzuru try to do something as simple as walk and remembers. At least he’s got his skating prowess to balance out how truly hopeless he is on land.

He steps through the lobby doors down to the rink and leans against the boards, watching Yuzuru tap his toepick in a couple of faux-takeoffs and then stoop down to retie his boot. With his glasses on, Javier can see that Yuzu’s got his headphones on, bedhead rampant, and that he’s wearing an old Team Japan jacket that’s unzipped and worn. Javier knows that jacket well; he’s slept with his head on it when he and Yuzuru had to be apart, because Yuzu had left it to remember him by.

Yuzuru still hasn’t noticed him. He sits down on the floor behind the gate and yanks his skates from his bag onto his feet, stepping onto the ice and breathing in deep. There really is something about an empty rink in the early morning, or late at night - it’s the opposite of clinical, the opposite of lonely. Especially with Yuzuru here. They’ve spent more quality time together on ice than off, maybe, more time spent on discoveries and laughter and tears and this is where they always come when they have miscommunications, not bed or for a walk or for a long drive in Javier’s car, but the ice, where they’re both most at home, most themselves.

There’s no, like, nice, etiquette-approved way to approach someone who’s all alone and unaware of your presence. Javier settles for being the loudest he possibly can and doing a huge hockey stop, spraying snow toward Yuzu. Yuzuru turns toward him, and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes when he sees him. “Hi, Javi,” he says, sounding a little resigned.

Javier lines up next to him and they push off for crossovers. Javier is the kind of person who loves to go back to basics, though it annoys Yuzuru more often than not. He’s the type to push the envelope, challenge himself, want to do something  _ new _ and  _ exciting _ every practice - but Javier likes to feel himself get into the ice, feel out his edges, sand the building blocks into something beautiful in and of themselves. Maybe skating comes so naturally to Yuzuru that he doesn’t really need the practice - but Javier’s always liked the fight, the feeling of reward that comes with struggling and overcoming something. He knows Yuzuru’s addicted to it, too - he just beats himself up, instead of fighting everyone else.

“So.” Javier says when they get to the boards and start a set going backwards. He watches the way Yuzu kicks his leg out wide and places it down behind him, knee bend deep, and mimics it, noting the slip of his skates against the ice and that he’s probably about due for a sharpening. “It’s a weird thing to talk about, isn’t it? This isn’t even really tangible.”

Yuzuru sighs, exasperated, swinging himself into a spinning stop, so he’s facing Javier. “I hurt you,” he says, taking Javier’s hands in his and swinging them between the two of them. 

Javier nods, just once. “I was hurt,” he confirms softly, trying his best not to carelessly fling accusations. He has a big enough family that he’d learned very early on in life how to argue effectively, and as one of the older cousins, he knows how to be diplomatic while getting his point across. “I don’t feel good when you ignore me.”

“You didn’t want to be with me, so I think, I’ll leave him alone.” Yuzuru sniffs, haughty, still trying to hang onto some of that infamous, unshakeable pride.

Thankfully, Javier happens to know that it’s easy to shatter that illusion, if he speaks plainly. “That’s crap, Yuzuru.” He squeezes Yuzuru’s hands. “You’re being selfish. I love being with you, but I need to spend time with my family, too. Your sister and your dad got to come to the Olympics. Mine didn’t.”

Yuzuru averts his eyes, looks off downrink, toward the doors. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry, I feel angry because you weren’t here and then bad because I  _ know _ that, Javi, I know you deserve space.”

“That’s the thing, is I never actually want to be away from you.” Javier smiles sadly when Yuzuru looks up, feeling a few stray tears slip down his cheeks. “It’s so hard for me to leave you behind. I’m so tired of choosing between you and the rest of my family. I can’t wait till we don’t have to do it anymore.”

“I know,” Yuzuru whispers, looking down at their hands. He traces the ring on Javier’s finger, fluorescent light glinting off his matching one. “I can’t wait till we can wear these all the time,” he muses. “Not just in private, not just when we sleep. Everywhere.”

Javier practically groans at the thought. “I know,” he says, “you know what me retiring means, right?” 

Yuzuru nods, smile spreading across his face. “Hey, there you are, darling,” Javier encourages. “I’m gonna wear this all the time. So even when I can’t be with you, people are gonna know I’m yours.”

Yuzuru swipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. His hand immediately returns to press palm-to-palm with Javi’s, and Javier pulls him along as he starts to spin, grinning as they pick up speed, faking like he’s going to lift Yuzuru up and spin with him above him, but he pulls in at the last second, wrapping his arms around Yuzuru’s middle as they both go down hard on their butts. Yuzuru has a giggle fit, and Javier can’t help but laugh, either.

“You’re ok,  _ querido.  _ I love you so much.” Javier kisses the back of his head, the nape of his neck. The curve of Yuzuru’s shoulder, through the jacket that smells so much like him. “You need to work on the whole trying to make me jealous thing, though. You’re very obvious.”

Yuzuru snaps his head around to gape at him. “I wasn’t-” he starts, but his look of shock subsides when he realizes Javier isn’t having it. “Sorry,” he says, slumping in Javier’s arms. “My butt is cold,” he complains.

“Which one of us is always falling for dramatic effect? I’m not buying it.” Javier wiggles as if getting more comfortable. “Anyway, your butt feels fine to me.”

Yuzuru turns and sticks his tongue out at him. “You are very bad,” he tells him.

“So I’ve been told,” Javier says, “mostly by you. And yet you don’t go anywhere. I think I’m doing fine.” He rests his chin on Yuzuru’s shoulder, fingers playing teasingly at his waist under his shirt. He snorts, and Yuzuru hums, prompting.

“It’s funny,” Javier says, “I’ve never fucked you in an ice arena. Not even a locker room or something.”

“That’s because Brian would kill us,” Yuzuru says.

Javier is about to admit he has a valid point when the gate to the side of them creaks open. “Hey!” Misha says, as usual way too loud for this early in the morning. He’s wearing a mesh t-shirt and Nike workout leggings, which is about right. “Just wondering, if you two can take a quick break from being gay, some people would like to practice.”

“Putting together another Bieber routine, Misha?” Javier asks, brushing the snow off his pants as he helps a giggling Yuzuru up.

“Absolutely not, Fernandez. We’re on Kpop as a society now, keep up, old man. You’ll never be cool at this rate.”

“You are literally one month younger than me,” Javier deadpans. Yuzuru is laughing fully now as he circles around Misha, and Javier feels a pang of something achy and weirdly final in his chest.

 

*

 

“Your bed is so  _ big,” _ Yuzuru exclaims when they return to Javier’s room, diving onto it. He flips onto his back and lies there, eyes closed, little smile on his face. His t-shirt rides up to expose a strip of stomach, of thin waist; Yuzuru is unselfconscious, beautiful and content. Looking him over, Javier remembers the frustration of being hung up on, of being shut out, channels the slight anger he felt at seeing Yuzuru publicly flirting. It’s not intense, but he lets the slight rush go through him, rather than biting it back. Just enough to get him hot, get his heart racing. He leans down over Yuzuru, nosing at his neck before biting down on a soft spot above his collarbone, higher than he’d usually mark. Higher than Yuzuru is used to - he cries out, pitch high, and squirms, though his hand goes straight to Javier’s hair and holds on, keeps him right where he is. Still standing, Javier slips a hand around Yuzuru’s waist and pulls him upright, so that they are standing flush against each other. He nibbles up Yuzuru’s jaw and then kisses him roughly on the lips, both hands sliding down his back to take two handfuls of his ass and squeeze. 

Yuzuru squeaks and pulls away, panting, and Javier stares him down, eyes dark and full of heat. He slips two into Yuzuru’s waistband. “I like it when you’re rough like this,” Yuzuru tells him, with the most smug little smile at each corner of his mouth. “I like when I can make you… hot and bothered?”

Javier smiles, remarking to himself how little Yuzuru knows about how bothered he really is. He pushes Yuzuru’s pants down, lets them pool at his feet, and wordlessly proceeds to pick Yuzuru up again, this time with his forearms hooked under his thighs. Yuzuru wraps his legs around Javier’s waist, Javier pushing up into him and swallowing his surprised laughter in another heated kiss. Yuzuru goes down after a moment; Javier can feel the way the tension melts from his shoulders, the way he tips his head back, the most minute submission. He takes it as an opportunity, trailing his lips back down Yuzu’s neck, over the bruise he’s already made - he feels the jolt of Yuzuru’s body when he laps at it with a firm tongue - back to his collarbone, shoving the neckline of his t-shirt out of the way and then getting frustrated enough to pull back and yank it off of him. 

He gives himself a moment to admire the bare skin on offer. Yuzuru pretty much holds himself up, as light and strong as he is, pressed between Javier’s body and the wall, and lets Javier look his fill. When Javier meets his eyes, he’s grinning, his cheeks flushed. “That was fun,” he says, messing with his bottom lip. “More of that, please.”

Javier leans in to take that lip between his own teeth instead. “Mm,” he says against Yuzuru’s cheek, trying to tamp down his excitement a little, just in case Yuzuru says no, “do you want to try something new?”

Yuzuru hums, almost a moan. Always so playful, so responsive. “Like what, Javi?” he says coyly. It’s not as if they’ve never discussed this, not even like they’ve never played with it, albeit lightly. Javier doesn’t know why he’s so nervous.

He fights it down. “Well,” he says, pushing impossibly closer. Yuzuru gasps, and his feet drop to the floor. “I think you’ve been a terrible tease,” Javier continues, his lips moving wetly against the sensitive spot behind Yuzuru’s ear, “and I think I need to punish you. Maybe give you a spanking.”

Yuzuru is quiet for a moment, completely still. And then he starts being really infuriating - he starts laughing again, good-natured and sympathetic. When Javier looks at him again, he’s got the  _ biggest _ smirk on his face.

“You would never,” he says, voice full of mirth. “Javi, you cant even hold me down, even when I ask. You think I’m fragile and delicate. Like your flower, remember?” He pecks Javier’s nose sweetly, and Javier smiles. When Yuzuru reaches up to brush a curl back from Javier’s forehead, Javier catches his wrist midair.

Yuzuru looks taken aback for a split second, then his lips crack into an even more comfortable smile. “Ok, Javi,” he says, flopping his wrist about, testing Javier’s grip. “I play how you want.”

Javier leans in, just to be close, afraid if he goes too far it’ll break the spell. “But do you want to?” he asks Yuzuru lowly. “Tell me if it’s ok.”

“I want you to.” Javier lets him go this time when Yuzuru yanks his wrist away, and Yuzuru coaxes him to look at him, holding Javier’s face with both hands. He looks resolute, determined - it’s a very specific, very stubborn expression, totally Yuzuru. “Fuck me up a little, Javi. Show me you missed me.”

Javier shudders, and he tilts his head to kiss the heels of both of Yuzuru’s hands. “Good,” he says, nodding. “Even princesses need a little guidance sometimes, hmm?” 

Right on cue, Yuzuru blushes, practically scarlet. “Don’t call me that,” he mumbles, averting his gaze. Javier grins, endeared - and encouraged.

“Why not, Princess?” he asks, leaning forward to kiss Yuzuru’s heated cheeks. He sighs into Yuzu’s hair, tickles his ear with his breath. “You’re so beautiful. Shame you’re so naughty. Maybe you need a little discipline, yeah?”

_ “Fuck, _ Javier,” Yuzuru says, his jaw clenched. Javier tuts, bringing both of his hands to Yuzuru’s waist.

“You have such a mouth on you, too. You know, I used to get mine washed out with soap.” He does his best to ignore the kisses Yuzuru’s scattering across his shoulder and cheek, but he can feel warmth blooming within him at how cute it is. He swallows roughly and tightens his grip on Yuzuru’s body. “Such a brat,” he says, “and now you’re trying to get out of being punished.”

Yuzuru catches on fast, ever playful. “Mmnnoooo,” he whines, looking perfectly guilty when he tilts his face up to catch Javier’s eye. “Trying to show you I can be sweet.”

“All sugar, no substance,” Javier argues. “I  _ know _ you can be sweet. You just spoil too easy.” He guides Yuzuru over to the desk in the room and down over it, so his ass is up in the air. He runs a palm over the small of his back, pushing down slightly so Yuzuru’s stomach is flat against the wood, and then pulls his hand down over the curve of his ass, bare and framed by his jockstrap. “Pretty thing,” Javier breathes, admiring him shamelessly. “I’ll teach you to be sweet for me.”

Yuzuru stretches his arms out in front of him, catlike, arching his back and pushing his ass up higher, before resting his face against his folded forearms, and then he closes his eyes. Javier huffs a laugh at him. “Comfortable?” he asks.

Yuzuru hums. He wiggles his hips back and forth a couple times, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Just go,” he says, goading.

Javier growls a little, placing his palm at the small of Yuzuru’s back again, a little more forcefully, to hold him in place as he brings his other hand down sharply on the crest of Yuzu’s ass. “You didn’t say ‘please,’” he points out, enjoying the barely-there sting in his palm as he gives Yuzuru another smack. “Are you gonna keep finding more ways to be bad?”

“Mm, probably.” Yuzuru hisses when Javier yanks the elastic of his jock away from his skin to smack up into his sit spot and then lets the strap snap back into place. “Fuck,” he breathes. Javier lets his hands roam over his upper body in an attempt to be soothing with his touch, but he’s surprised to find no tension in Yuzuru’s torso; he’s practically melted against the table surface, his shoulders loose and relaxed.

“You like it?” Javier murmurs, having leaned in to nibble at the nape of Yuzuru’s neck. Yuzuru nods, his messy hair brushing against Javier’s jaw. Javier gives him an affectionate kiss behind his ear -  _ I love you, thank you _ \- before standing upright again. He lays a few light taps on Yuzuru’s backside, testing out their placement, before coming down harsher than before on the fleshiest bit of him, letting him wait out the next one before landing it in the exact same spot. He doesn’t miss the way Yuzuru’s hands reach out for the opposite side of the desk, gripping the edge, nor the way he seems to arch his back and push up higher toward Javier’s touch.

“God, Yuzuru,” Javier says, taking a moment to palm himself through his loose sweatpants, give himself a moment of relief. Yuzuru’s body is insane, all strength and curve. It lights Javier up like nothing else, tiny waist to wide-set hips to full, plump ass and thighs, and he gets to admire and touch and kiss him all he wants. With Yuzuru’s legs spread apart, Javier can see how excited he is, with his cock tenting the front of his underwear and precum wetting the fabric. 

“More, please,” Yuzuru says, as if Javier didn’t know already what he wants. He drops to his knees behind Yuzuru and nudges his thigh with his nose as he pulls his underwear down his legs. It’s all very well and good to fuck him with that frame around his ass, and Javier has done it before and thoroughly enjoyed it, but he’s in the mood to strip Yuzuru bare, both figuratively and literally. Yuzuru shivers in his nudity, pressing back toward Javier for contact. Javier gladly gives it to him, bringing both palms down on either side of Yuzuru’s ass, even as he sinks his teeth into his inner thigh. Yuzuru squirms but he pulls his other leg up onto the desk, spreading himself out completely, and Javier reward him for it by rubbing his stubble against the imprint of his own teeth, making Yuzu shiver and gasp.

He rests his forehead against Yuzuru’s hip and groans. “Honey,” he says with great effort, “maybe you should get up on your back for me.” He’s going for a better angle to get Yuzuru’s dick in his mouth, wants to feel him thicken up the rest of the way against his tongue.

But Yuzuru shakes his head, impatient. “Want it like this,” he says, “fuck me like this.” He emphasizes his point by arching his back sharply, planting both feet on the floor again to press his thighs together and jiggle his ass as he shakes his hips.

Javier yanks him up by the hair, biting down lightly on his shoulder when Yuzuru yelps, and he feels him shudder beneath him. “I’ll fuck you every way you can think of, but first I want this cock nice and hard.” With one hand still in Yuzuru’s hair, he slides the other down his stomach to wrap around his dick, already soaked enough in Yuzuru’s own pre to slick the way for a few pumps of his fist. Yuzuru shouts at the sudden stimulation, throwing his head back only to be met by a fresh tug to his hair.

“Hmm,” Javier breathes, bringing his palm to Yuzuru’s face. “Lick up the mess you made,” he tells him. Yuzuru’s eyes slide over to glare at him sideways, which is rather impressive, though Javier has very little time to marvel before Yuzu is drawing his index and middle fingers into his mouth to suck, directly circumventing the order. Javier can’t bring himself to reprimand him further than squeezing one of the red spots on his ass before shoving him roughly onto the bed.

“You’re so much,” he groans, panting as tears his own clothes off. Yuzuru just lies on his back on the bed, looking perfectly pleased with himself.

“That’s what they tell me,” he says, as Javier drapes his body over his. Yuzuru huffs at him when Javier spends too much time staring, and he gives him a sweet smile as he pulls Javier by the cheek to meet his lips. “I love you, Javi,” he says into the kiss, with a happy sigh. Javier swears he blooms from the inside out, feeling his heart open for Yuzuru. He grinds against him, groaning at how very little relief it offers them both.

Javier slides down Yuzuru’s body to flick his tongue softly around the shaft of his cock. Yuzuru’s hand curls predictably into his hair, and Javier looks up at him from under his lashes as he draws the head of Yuzuru’s cock into his mouth and starts to suck, feeling his mind go a little fuzzy at the taste. Sure enough, Yuzu gets impossibly harder; blowjobs are always good for him, always a surefire way to get him to come. Javier enjoys giving them too much to let him go too fast, but he’s glad he knows how to turn Yuzu on. Yuzuru’s body is so sensitive; Javier can reach up, place a hand on Yuzuru’s stomach and feel the little tremors of pleasure go through him when he moves his tongue a certain way or puts pressure on a certain place. He likes to hear him, too, the way Yuzuru’s breath becomes noticeably shorter and the way he starts letting out moans and whines. Javier sinks down on him slow, enjoying the way Yuzuru’s cute cock fills out and pushes against his soft palate, then the back of his tongue, taking in the smell of him and keeping his eyes on his blissed-out face for as long as he can before he has to shut his eyes to accept his girth into the back of his throat. He swallows around it a couple times, moans. 

Yuzuru’s hips buck up into him, and Javier would laugh if he didn’t have a mouth full of dick. Yuzuru lets out the most incredible groan, almost a growl, the most deeply pleasured sound he’s ever heard him make. Javier’s brain turns to white noise, and he lets Yuzuru hold his head in place and fuck him for a few minutes, ego beyond elated that he can make Yuzuru let go like this. Most of the time Yuzu is in performance mode; the fact that he can let himself be so raw for Javier is a gift that Javier does not intend to squander.

“Jesus christ,” Yuzuru spits, practically convulsing as he forces himself to pull away. “No, Javi-”

“Just come,” Javier insists, with an arm around Yuzuru’s waist, holding his hips close to his face. He bites down lightly into Yuzuru’s stomach and Yuzuru gives him an acquiescent whine. “It’s ok, baby, wanna taste you when you come.”

Yuzuru tosses his hair off his forehead, flustered, and he goes a bit crosseyed when Javier resumes his attentions on his cock, jacking him off with his fist while he focuses on the head with his tongue. It doesn’t take much longer for Yuzuru to come like that, now that he’s resigned himself to it, spilling hot and long into Javier’s mouth, onto his lips and chin when he pulls off midway through. Yuzuru gasps all the way through his orgasm, and it seems to last for a long while after he’s ejaculated, thigh muscles spasming as Javier digs his fingers in. 

“Jesus,” Javier says after Yuzuru’s gone quiet and limp, grinning up at him. “Had some stress built up, darling?”

Yuzuru groans and throws his forearm over his eyes. “You are bad boyfriend.”

Javier feels his grin split his face, ear to ear. “I’ll be a great husband,” he reminds Yuzuru, who lets Javier pull the hand from over his face when he laces their fingers together.

Yuzuru sighs. “I told you I want you to ruin me, idiot.” He reaches down to find Javier’s cock, and Javier kisses all over his face and neck as Yuzuru slowly plays with it, running his fingers slowly over the contours.

“Did I not manage to do so?” Javier teases. He can feel the eye roll Yuzuru gives even without seeing it. “Anyway, if you’re not satisfied, there’s plenty more where that came from in your hand.”

“I’m satisfied, but you are not.” Javier hisses when Yuzuru digs the pad of his thumb into the slit of his dick. He buries his face between Yuzuru’s neck and shoulder. “You’re too good at giving handjobs,” he says. “I hate it. Makes me feel inferior.”

Yuzuru chuckles, long fingers still working slowly over Javier. “Doesn’t feel like you hate it.” He rolls his balls in his palm and focuses there when he feels how Javier shivers for it, arm wrapped around Javier’s shoulders as he works him expertly to his release. Yuzuru kisses him as he comes, lips soft against Javier’s tongue in his mouth with the taste of himself between them. Javier moans as he feels himself come undone, his body pulsing with pleasure. He figures he must feel like Yuzuru had; his orgasm seems to last particularly long with Yuzuru’s hands and mouth on him, and afterwards he’s completely exhausted, totally wrung out.

Yuzuru rolls on top of him, kissing him harder and taking all of Javier’s breath with him. “Next time you tell me you are going to  _ spank me,” _ he tells him, in between nipping at Javi’s lip and licking grossly at his chin, “make sure I can actually feel it. Keep your promises.”

“You’re itching for another one already, apparently.” Javier reaches around him and grabs his ass hard with both hands, and Yuzuru moans miserably. He tuts at him. “Such a brat.”

Yuzuru sighs, letting himself collapse against Javier. “Love you,” he says softly, pressing another kiss to Javier’s shoulder. He’s asleep before Javier can respond, but Javier can’t say it takes him much longer to pass out, and anyway, he knows Yuzuru knows.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i know a belt is more practical training undies really but  
> who can resist   
> ]  
> please feel free to say hey if you enjoyed this!


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